We’re Getting Too Old For This [...]
Jan 9th, 2006 by Alex
It’s eerie when you have one of those “I’m getting too old for this shit” moments. You tell yourself that you aren’t getting old. Your associates smirk when you say it, and you know that you aren’t THAT old. Are you?
You’re preparing for a few rounds of beer pong at a kegger and suddenly you realize that you’re getting to be the old guy at the party. Not the REALLY old guy, but that’s coming too. So when the hell did this happen? Why just yesterday you were in college boozing it up with your buddies, and now it’s… damn. It’s more than four years later and you’re wondering if all that boozing is finally beginning to catch up with you. You can’t quite figure out when all that time passed.
Since you came to the party alone you end up partnering up with some little shit whose pants are hanging so low that you can see six inches of his boxer shorts and a clear outline of his buttocks whether you want to or not. He’s wearing a wifebeater and he’s got the faintest trace of a five o’clock shadow where his excuse-for-a-mustache is attempting to grown in. This is commonly referred to as a Glen Burnie Stache.
I am beginning to realize now what my parents were thinking when I left the house in my teenage years, although I swear that my pants were never THAT low around my waist. At worst I would be showing an inch of boxers, buttocks fully contained within the pants.
When you recover from your trip down memory lane, the youngster is busy raving about how he can drink all night without hangovers. Concurrently he is halfway through a fifth of gin, a 30-pack of Keystone, three 40’s of OE… and tells you that it’s no problem, he’s had more with supper.
Right. I remember those days, proclaiming that I was indestructable, immune to hangovers, invincible, waterproof, and invisible… all at the same time. I was right, too. No hangovers for whatever reason, no matter what sludge (that was passed for booze) was consumed the previous evening. The invisibility came in handy too.
These days, two beers and it’s hangover time in the morning. It doesn’t matter how much you attempt to rehydrate yourself the night before, you still wake up feeling like ass. Those younger days are over, even if they were only a year or two ago. Pass the Advil, please.
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